


What Friends Are For

by Suryaofvulcan



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-22
Updated: 2006-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:03:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suryaofvulcan/pseuds/Suryaofvulcan
Summary: Malcolm and Hoshi share a nightcap. Episode tag for 2.01 "Shockwave 2." (08/15/2006)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Written for the LiveJournal community entficathon, for RoaringMice, who wanted: Hoshi-focused, with a strong, capable Hoshi. Hoshi saves the day.  
  
This is the first time I've ever written for Hoshi, so I hope I've found her 'voice'. She's strong and capable, but I suppose she's already 'saved the day' by the time this story opens. This is the aftermath. But I couldn't resist slipping in a tiny bit of Tucker/Reed slash as well.  
  
In the episode, Archer had been transported into a post apocalyptic future by Daniels, and the Suliban boarded the ship looking for him. They locked the crew in their quarters and Hoshi had a long crawl between the decks to get hyposprays from the doctor and deliver them to Malcolm, during which she lost her shirt. Malcolm then retrieved a device from Daniels' quarters and allowed Sillik to beat (false) information out of him so that Sillik would use it to help Archer return.  
  
Beta: Daria, who improved this story tenfold. Any remaining errors are there because of the fiddling I did after sheâ€™d seen it.  


* * *

I almost turned on my heel and walked out of the mess hall when I caught sight of him sitting alone over by the window. He was nursing a mug of soup and poring over a padd. I don't know which of us was more embarrassed this afternoon when he found me standing topless outside his door. I hadn't seen that look on his face since the misunderstanding we had a few months ago, when the captain had ordered me to find out what he likes to eat, and he thought I was asking him to dinner.

Not that he isn't attractive, in an unobtrusive, mysterious sort of way, and I love the way he speaks. I could spend hours listening to his subtle pauses as he mentally translates what he's saying from British to American English. I often try to imagine the words he would have used if he wasn't talking to a bunch of uncouth Americans. But if I've been reading his body language right, his taste runs more to tall, blond engineers, and mine â€¦ well, mine runs to older men. Older than Lieutenant Reed anyway.

Today, if we hadn't been in the middle of trying to outwit the Suliban, he'd probably have thought I was throwing myself at him. Again. But ever since what we've both come to refer to as 'the pineapple incident', we've been sort of tiptoeing our way towards friendship, which is why I didn't turn and run when his door opened, despite being pretty rattled after my journey through the crawlspaces. And why, once I'd gotten my hot chocolate from the drinks dispenser, I steeled myself and approached his table.

"Mind if I join you, Lieutenant?" I asked.

He glanced up from his padd, and I couldn't suppress a gasp. He looked terrible; his handsome, chiselled features marred by dozens of swellings and cuts and bruises.

He gave me a lop-sided smile that looked more like a wince, and then shrugged when he saw my expression. "I can assure you it looks a lot worse than it actually is, Ensign," he said. He rose out of his chair a little and offered me a seat; always the gentleman.

"Well, I have to tell you, it looks pretty bad." I flashed him a smile to take the sting out of my words.

"The doctor said most of the swelling should go down overnight," he sighed. "And he gave me a stiff dose of his painkiller. The good stuff," he added with another small smile.

I paused and bit my lip, not sure whether he would want to talk about what happened.

"Something on your mind, Hoshi?" he asked gently.

His use of my first name took us from the professional sphere to the personal, and I decided to plunge right in.

"Just â€¦ well you, really. What you did. Letting them beat you up like that." I gestured in the general direction of his bruised and battered face.

He shrugged. "The security of the ship is my responsibility. If repelling a boarding party and retrieving the captain means a little pain â€¦"

"I couldn't have done it--just sat there and taken it. I'd have wanted to fight back. Do them some damage." The words slipped out before I realised I'd said them.

"I'm sure you would have, too."

I glanced at him sharply, at first mistaking his amusement for sarcasm: Malcolm can be pretty acerbic. He put a lot of effort into teaching me how to shoot, and I wondered for a moment if he still thought of me as a helpless little girl. But he looked back at me steadily and sincerely, and I realised he must know about the black belt I hold in aikido, although I've deliberately kept it quiet. I only spar with Ensign Tyler from stellar sciences, in the wee small hours of the morning. Never with any of the security personnel.

"How did you â€¦?"

"It's in your Starfleet security file," he explained. "Since you've never mentioned it I assumed you didn't want to advertise the fact, but I did want to talk to you about it sometime. I wondered if you might consider helping out with some training sessions for my people? It would be good for them to mix things up a little; train with someone different on occasion. It's easy to get complacent when you're sparring with the same few people all the time."

I knew that was true. Sometimes I felt like I could predict every move Tyler made. But still â€¦

"Starfleet security training's a lot different than just sparring in the gym."

"A minute ago you were ready to take on a bunch of Suliban," he pointed out. "I doubt you'd even have thought of that six months ago. Surely your fellow officers aren't that much more frightening," he teased gently. "You can start with me if you like."

I thought about it for a moment, then grinned back. "You're up for a little sparring practice, then?" I said, picking up his light tone. I had sometimes wondered if I would be able to beat him in hand to hand combat.

He nodded enthusiastically, and the crooked grin reappeared. "As long as you don't go around afterwards telling everyone how you kicked my arse." He glanced furtively around the room before he leaned forward and whispered, "I'd only just achieved my black belt when we left Earth."

"You know me: the soul of discretion," I quipped. He snorted. "But we'd better wait until your current batch of bruises heals," I added with a grin.

I could see his mood growing reflective as we sat in companionable silence for a while; him sipping at his soup, wincing occasionally as the hot liquid contacted his split lip, while I drank my hot chocolate.

"You know, I couldn't have done what you did today," he said at last, and I knew he wasn't talking about me losing my shirt.

"You mean up in the crawlspace?" I said, suppressing a shiver of revulsion at the thought. I haven't been so glad to get out of a place since my first away mission, when we boarded that ship full of corpses. "Don't you like enclosed spaces either?" I asked, intrigued. I'd never noticed him having a problem with the environmental suits or the like.

"No, they're not a problem for me. But this â€¦" he said, gesturing to his face, "this is easy. What you did, overcoming your phobia â€¦ I've never quite managed to do that," he finished quietly.

I almost asked what he was afraid of, but as I looked at him I sensed that even this small confidence had cost him something, and I decided not to push. Perhaps another time this intensely private man would reveal a little more of himself. For now, we'd taken another few steps along the road to friendship, and I was satisfied.

I glanced down at my empty cup. "Well," I sighed, sliding out of my chair, "it's getting late. I think I'll turn in. Good night, Malcolm."

"Good night, Hoshi, and â€¦ thank you," he said. "For the company."

"Any time, Malcolm. That's what friends are for."


End file.
